


He's made of out of space

by iambrianstorms



Category: Arctic Monkeys, The Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Basically I'm a Nerd™, M/M, Metaphors, Miles' POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iambrianstorms/pseuds/iambrianstorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s the prism that made me see all the colours I couldn’t see before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's made of out of space

**Author's Note:**

> So I literally wrote this is one sitting and i'm very tired cause it's almost 5 am
> 
> I used a glossary of astronomy for this (that's why you may notice there are very complex terms!!)
> 
> It's kinda short but I believe it was worth my time cause I had a shit-ton of Milex feels and now I'm feeling a little bit better
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!!!

I wish I had studied Astronomy. 

 

Wish I had read books about it, watched more movies about the outerspace.

 

I have the impression that doing it so, I’d comprehend Alex’s curious nature. 

 

That boy? He's certainly extraterrestrial.

 

I got to this conclusion earlier this morning; he was still heavily asleep when I woke up, so I carefully stood up and moved to the kitchen in order to fetch me some tea. As I entered the room once again, he hadn’t moved the slightest, and his breathing was still rhytmic, and calm. I sat down on the small armchair we have in our room, next to the window, in order to watch the  last bit of sunrise while sipping on the hot beverage. 

 

Alex, though, is far more interesting than the sky. 

 

Maybe because he’s made of it; of stars, or of cosmic dust. 

 

My eyes wandered freely over his bare back, joining the dots - or the freckles - that form a constellation on his pale skin.

 

And before I noticed, I was far away from that room, yet still thinking about the figure laying in the bed in front of me. 

 

The first time I saw him, he was like a bolide in the middle of the booze-induced chaos. The fluffy-haired boy, who had just acchivied the status of rockstar with his debut album, looked at  me, and I swear he entered my life just like the so-called meteor - with an explosion - and with the extreme brightness of one. 

 

He smiled, and eyed me discreetly before looking away. I didn’t look away. I stared at him for a long second, and found myself walking towards him as if his gravitational field was pulling me closer. He glanced at me again, but he maybe didn’t expect me to be staring, to approach him, or give him much attention, and so his eyebrows shot up and his alluring lips curled delicately. He took a large sip of his beer, as if to gain courage, and started walking too, with the objective of meeting me half-way. 

 

And so we stopped, and looked at each other for a bit, until the words left my mouth unvoluntarily: ‘I’m a big fan of your work, laa’

 

He gave me a toothy smile, ‘Thank you. Northern, aye?’

 

I nodded. 

 

‘Couldn’t miss the accent’ he pointed, and winked. Soon, he sticked his hand out, ‘m Alex’

 

A cheeky ‘ _ I know’ _ almost left my mouth, but I swallowed it down and offered him my own hand, ‘m Miles’

 

Alex seemed to study my face for a second, before letting go of my fingers. He took a mouthful of beer, and then asked: ‘So,  _ Miles _ , are you a musician too?’

 

I found myself enchanted by the way he pronounced my name, so much that I almost forgot to answer, ‘Yeah, actually. The Rascals’ I commented, not really expecting him to know the small band I was currently a part of. 

 

A few months later, and we were supporting them. 

 

A few months later, and we were  _ inseparable _ . 

 

I’m not sure at what point the flirting actually started, but it was probably sooner that we even started playing together. The jokes stopped being jokes, and the looks we exchanged were no more fruit of pure sympathy. 

 

I  _ do _ remember the point we finally did something about it, and I remember to this day the absurd amount of luminosity that his naked body emitted, and how I vocally compared him to a star. I remember not wanting to let him go by the morning, but he had stuff to do, and so had I, so we said our goodbyes with a knowing smile and the silent promise that this was going to become recurrent. 

 

Now,  _ look at where we are _ . No more long-legged models, no more hiding. We  _ are _ , now, and no one can impend us from being. 

 

And when I look at Alex, I acknowledge he’s made of plasma, and not atoms, or maybe tektite. He’s unlike anyone else. His spectrum is vaster, and brighter than the others. He’s the prism that made me see all the colours I couldn’t see before, and he’s showed me how being in love makes life much more enjoyable - I used to be a lone ranger, you know; I used to believe it was much better to have tons of birds, and tons of blokes, and spend no more than a few days with each so I could go on and enjoy some more. 

 

I was a planemo, and now I am an enamored body that orbits around the star that he is. 

 

Now, we are like the Magellanic Clouds: we are far away from the Milky Way, in our own galaxies, lacking in oxygen because we don’t really need it - he steals it from me anyway, everytime he touches me, and tells me he loves me - drowned in the sweetness of our light-natured souls. Everytime we kiss, it’s like the planets have finally aligned. 

 

It’s like the constellation have finally fallen into place.

 

And when we make love, it’s Tedal heating, it’s nuclear fusion, it’s the fucking Big Bang.

 

It makes me happy that he’s fallen from the sky, cause up there is no sound propagation, and  then no one would be able to hear the sinful sounds he makes when I touch him where he needs to be touched. The small moans, the high-pitched ones, the guilty pleas, and the bossy ‘ _ I’m not asking twice _ ’s he loves to whisper while looking deep in my eyes. His  _ eyes _ , God, I’m sure I could spend days trying to describe them without ever succeding in it - they’re not blue, they’re not green, they’re not hazel nor golden nor grey. They’re brown, and that’s what makes them beautiful. 

 

If you look deep into them, you’ll drown in his pupils. They’re so pitch black that it seems like pure, cruel umbra, and their essence is undoubtfully sidereal. When he’s horny,  _ shit _ , it’s like those pupils devour the brown and flood his irises until they overflow, and everything becomes sticky and dense and murky, and the air becomes thick with desire. 

 

And when we fight, I become nothing but matter with lackluster limbs and lackluster eyes. We reach apastron and yet I feel his name carved on my chest, and the ghost of his figure laying on my chest; I feel his presence like it’s dark matter - I can’t see him, but his gravitational effects mess my own functioning. 

 

When we discuss, there are nebulas on his eyes, and he becomes a flare star whose’s explosions make me want to travel back in time, or jump to the future, so I can escape from seeing so much anger, or so much disappointment on his actions because of something I did. I try to wander through the interestellar medium so I can reach him again but it’s hard, cause I’m stubborn, and he’s stubborn too, and sometimes the only way to fix things is to let time do it for you. 

 

A quiet call of my name made me cut the instrospective shite I was thinking about, and I finally noticed that the sun was already up, and Alex was looking at me from in between the white sheets, his hair a complete yet adorable mess, and his eyes barely opened because of the weight of sleepiness that it’s pushing his eyelids back down. 

 

‘Yes, love?’

 

‘Come here, and lay down with me for a bit’

 

I put the cold tea aside, stood up and joined him, kissing his crown before whispering, 

  
‘For you, my little star, anything’

**Author's Note:**

> yo hit me up on tumblr and send me prompts/talk 2 me about anything:
> 
> shutterbugsandcameraplus.tumblr.com


End file.
